The Sacredness of the Vote

I had a wonderful 3-day weekend, going door-to-door to meet Democratic and independent voters in the densely populated area around the Tuckahoe train station. The overcast skies kept me from getting overheated and there are plenty of local spots to get a snack and refreshment.

I talked with some friends and family about the propriety of disturbing folks at home on the sacred Memorial Day itself. I thought about my uncle who was killed in the Korean War and, when you think about it, the reason he and so many others died was so that you and I, and even people half a world away, can do what I’m doing—that is, exercising the right to vote and run against established government officials. So, what greater way to honor the war dead than to talk to people about voting?

I got another perspective on the sacredness of the vote when I spoke with Minnie Allen, a proud 85-year-old African American woman standing on her porch on Washington Street. I started giving my little speech about, “What a shame it is that we Democrats have a majority in enrollment here in Tuckahoe, and in Westchester generally, and we got out and supported President Obama and Hillary Clinton, but often disappear in the odd years when we have the local and County elections.”

She cut me short: “Young man! My Granny lived in Central Florida and never got to vote. You understand? So I vote every year, every time!”